Al often says that nights were the worst, but he will never complain about nights again. The endless hours sat waiting at Ed's bedside, unsure if his brother would be alright when he did finally open his eyes, are the longest in his life. Even when people come to sit with him - and they do, a stream of friends that they had made along the way to offer support and warmth and generosity that they barely deserved - he still feels alone.

He had recovered from losing his mother, though barely, but he did not know if he could recover from losing Ed. His brother would probably have kicked him so hard his head flew off if he ever heard him say something like that, not when their entire motto was to move forwards and keep living, but his brother was the rock that made Al strong.

Relief floods through him when Ed opens his eyes, only to turn to shock and dismay almost immediately. He freezes in the act of leaning forwards, his arms half outstretched towards Ed as if to steady him.

"--you-- you don't know me?" It's a stupid question, Ed wouldn't joke at a time like this, but he can't help it. "You're-- you're in a hospital, br-- Ed, try to stay calm."